


Summer Dreaming

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right now, all over the surface, his crew is having a hell of a good time. They'll be safe, all properly apprised of the rules, the locals careful not to bring to life every random wish. The chances of another knight running down one of his people are slim to none.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=izzyfics)[**izzyfics**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=izzyfics) for the latest version of the [Ten Drabbles](http://medie.livejournal.com/1755662.html) meme. She wanted Kirk/McCoy (cis-female) - Summertime blues. Another STXI-ised TOS plot with "Shore Leave" taking center stage this time.

The sun overhead is warm, not hot, like an Iowan afternoon in June and surrounded by a seeming endless expanse of blue sky. Stretched out beneath it, Bones is having a hard time not mistaking it for one of those rare afternoons they'd stolen away from class with a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and a sorry tale or two. She turns her head, her dark hair tickling his chin, not really looking at him as she points at one solitary cloud drifting along the horizon.

For his part, Jim doesn't hear all that many of the details. His mind is elsewhere, transported back a few hours instead of a few hundred light years. Back to the moment when the bare midriff under his palm had been a mess of blood and jagged flesh.

"You know," Bones says, rolling onto her side, "the Federation should really put the full court press on this bunch. At least get a _name_ out of them." Her dark eyes gleam with the kind of lust usually reserved for him. "If I had half the equipment I saw in that workshop in my sickbay, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to cure the common cold. Maybe I could retire to Risa." She grins. "Think you could see your way clear to giving up a promising career in starship command to, oh, be a scantily clad cabana boy?"

He tries to grin saying, "I might," but his heart's not in it. Not when every blink of her eyes reminds of him of her laid out before him, cold and still.

"Jim."

He breathes out. "I'm listening."

"Are you?" she asks. "Doesn't look like it from here. Looks to me like you're still thinking about earlier."

"You died, Bones," he says, quiet. "This is supposed to be some kind of pleasure planet and you _died_." Right now, all over the surface, his crew is having a hell of a good time. They'll be safe, all properly apprised of the rules, the locals careful not to bring to life every random wish. The chances of another knight running down one of his people are slim to none.

Doesn't stop him from seeing Bones crumple, fall, the bright blue of her uniform turning the dull, dark red of blood.

She sighs. "Any game can be dangerous if you're not playing by the rules and we _weren't_."

"We didn't know there _were_ any," he snaps, frustrated. He should know this. He does know this. Just because this was a pleasure planet, that Bones getting run through by some mannequin on horseback wasn't real, doesn't change a damn thing. He fucked up. One of his people died. _Bones_ died.

One of her legs slides over his as she presses closer, her mouth brushing a soft kiss over his. "You can stop that bullshit anytime you like, Mister," she says. "We didn't know the rules, true enough, but they could've made themselves known and saved us all a lot of time and aggravation." She kisses him again. "And you a few nightmares."

Jim runs his hand down her arm and back up again, the sun-warm skin beneath his palm a tangible reminder she's _fine_. "More than a few." He doesn't know how to do this. He's had a few relationships over the years, let them become more than just casual fun, but nothing like Bones. She's not the first thing he thinks of in the morning or the last thing he thinks of at night, not always, but she's a constant anyway. A permanent part of his world when not much else was. He can't even count on the laws of physics anymore, not with Montgomery Scott and Spock around, but he's got Bones.

He's supposed to have Bones.

"You're not going to give me one of those 'speeches' are you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. A sure sign she's been spending too much time around Spock. "We agreed, Jim. No speeches. No flowers and candy. You go back on that and we're going to have words."

There's just enough emphasis on 'words' that he smiles. Most days, the whole Bones = a _mom_ thing kind of slips to the side. Not something he thinks about (but feels guilty for forgetting) when they're in a staff meeting and she's going another ten rounds with Spock again. Now, though, with that tone creeping into her voice, his smile widens and, for a second, he can forget.

But only a second. A blink of his eyelashes and he's staring at Bones again. God. He almost got somebody's mother killed. He _did_. They got lucky and saved her life, but he got somebody's mom killed.

He flops back onto the ground, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I got you killed, Bones."

"Nope, standing in front of a man on a horse got me killed," she says, then frowns. "Well, not so much that as getting myself skewered did. Lord knows, Jim, that lance of his was big enough to see and I swear if you so much as think of making a sex joke -- " her impending rant dissolves into an undignified squeak as he pulls her off balance and into a kiss.

They tangle together, her leg caught between his, the other slung over his hip, and, for once, she doesn't argue. She grabs fistfuls of his hair as she deepens the kiss, her tongue meeting and reacquainting itself with his.

There's an air of desperation in the kiss, but fuck if he cares. He presses closer, curling around her, and Bones lets him. More than that, she matches him for it and, maybe, she's not as well-adjusted about the whole thing as she's pretending to be.

He breaks the kiss, moving away from her mouth to the of her skin, needing to taste as much of it as he possibly can as fast as he can. "Jim," her voice is rough, low, but he can hear the hesitation. Knows she's going to suggest moving. Their 'host' had provided accommodations for the crew, embarrassingly lush all things considered, and there's a nice big bed a few steps away, but there's not a chance in hell he can let go of her long enough.

When he doesn't break contact, she huffs a laugh. "Fine, but if anybody finds us -- "

More than happy to play along, he promises, "I'll space anybody who peeks."

"I'm holding you to that, Mister," she warns, but lifts her hips anyway, her own hands working on his clothes.

"Hold me to anything you want, Bones," Jim says, "just don't ever do that again."

She sighs. "You know I can't promise that, Jim. I -- " he kisses her again to cut off the warning. He doesn't want the truth. He doesn't want to be a realist and accept there are no guarantees, for either of them. Not about this. Not right now, not with the aftermath of her resurrection hanging in the air. Maybe not ever. Whatever it makes him, he doesn't care. He's lost too much already.

He's perfectly happy to live the lie. As long as he has Bones, alive and breathing, reality can go to hell.


End file.
